Dexter's Final Cut
by August Summers
Summary: LaGuerta is dead. Dexter hasn't spoke to Deb in a month. He grows frustrated that their relationship isn't recovering, and he doesn't understand why. This is a story that came to me moments after the Series Finale, and how I think the series should have ended. Long story in progress. Rating M for language so far, later on violence and some sexual content much like the TV series.


**NOTE: This story came to me as the Series Finale aired. I began typing it just for my own satisfaction. Now I'm on FanFic and enjoy other people's stories, I thought, what the heck. Just publish it! This is my first published work and revolves around how I think the story of Dexter should have ended. It's a work in progress, first chapter uploaded. Though I know exactly where it ends (I have already written that). Don't know how long it will be though I know it will span events equivalent to about a season or so, maybe a half season that's intense without crappy side stories. Reviews are appreciated. I own none of the characters. Just a humble and slightly disappointed fan.**

**The Italics is Dexter's voice over if you want a reference point to the show. xx :) xx**

_I suppose it is human nature to constantly reevaluate what we do in our lives, how our decisions affect those around us, though usually it's after the storm has blown through, and the chaotic calm afterwards spawns realization. I was never one much for self-pity, doubt or guilt even in times of great turmoil. My Darkness always kept me grounded. My anchor. Same can't be said for Deb._

Debra Morgan walked through the doors just as Dexter Morgan finished his train of thought; he looked up and saw her striding to her office without glancing over. It bothered him, though he would never admit it consciously, that she never looked over to acknowledge his lab anymore. It had been two months. Sixty three days to be precise since LaGuerta's death. Dexter knew it was hard on Deb. He knew it was the hardest decision she made in her life – kill her monstrous big brother whom she loved or the manipulative yet entirely innocent boss who exposed her brother for what he is. He just didn't understand why she avoided him.

All three in that container two months ago were shocked at Deb's rash yet utterly emotional choice. And with every choice come the consequences and a price.

LaGuerta's memorial bench unveiling was to take place that afternoon. He knew she wouldn't miss it and neither would he. Maybe he could worm his way into talking to her at the event or afterward.

But no such thing happened. Deb arrived, barely spoke and left before Dexter could even say hello. He knew she couldn't ignore him forever so he decided to take the initiative. He dropped Harrison off at his apartment with Jamie. He headed over to Deb's beach house.

She didn't even realize she had started to avoid contact with her brother until he showed up on her front doorstep. She was more shocked at herself how numb she felt at seeing him outside of work or at the memorial. She felt cold and empty. Just empty.

"What do you want?" expressionless in her voice. Dexter lifted his hands a bit and shrugged to come in. Deb hesitated and let him in. She shut the door and stared at the door handle as he looked at her.

"Deb, what's going on with you?" he sighed.

She stared at the handle. Handles now reminded her of a shipping container handle and a door into an abandoned church.

"Nothing."

"You can't avoid me forever, Deb."

"Why not," she said turning around to stare at him.

He creased his eyebrows not comprehending. "Because I'm your brother. We work together."

"Yeah… but I don't get a choice in the matter," she said as she walked over to her kitchen and poured herself some Kentucky Bourbon and downed it in one.

"What does that mean?" he asked.

She put her hands on the counter and leaned in slightly, viciously stared at his face. That face. No longer feeling empty. Those fucking puppy dog eyes. She hated the sight of him that instance. "It's always you. It's the only thing that fucking sucks in my life."

Dexter blinked, creasing his eyebrows. "I don't know what you mean? I don't understand."

"Exactly! You don't. You never will," she said, palms up thrusting her hand at him making the point. She took another gulp of the whiskey, poured another one and walked past him to sit on the couch staring at the porch door.

"What do you mean I'm the only thing that sucks in your life?" He came around, sat across from her leaning on his knees forward. He tried to search for meaning in her stoic face, her hazel green eyes deep in thought.

"You. You were the reason Dad never paid attention to me because you had 'special' needs. I always thought he liked you better because you were a boy but now I see. He had his hands full with a psychopath." She said, not taking her eyes off the door. It was too much to see his face with this confession.

Dexter couldn't blame her for that. He wished Harry spent more time with Deb now that he thought back on it, but that might have been a disaster for his life. Strict rules. The Code is how he stayed anonymous and free, and without Harry to guide him day in and out, he would have been completely lost. Untamed and unchecked. "Deb, I'm sorry about that."

"No, don't tell me you're sorry. I see that now. The lies. Your sympathy isn't genuine. How can you have sympathy when all you care about is yourself," she said, anger now fueling her thoughts.

"How can you say that?" Dexter was perplexed. He saved his sister on more than one occasion. He made sure she was okay. Hell, he even took care of threats personally including disposing of the one person that understood him completely, Brian. As the thought popped to the forefront of his thoughts of a Barbie Doll head keychain, Deb spoke.

"I can and I will. Took me a long time to figure this out after, after it happened. I was fine until that fucktard Rudy got me to love him just to get to you and then he tried to kill me. You know how much that asshole messed me up? You know how fucked up it is to find out years later that he's the serial killing bio brother of your own brother? Then that whole fiasco with the Bay Harbor Butcher. I can't believe you were the son of a bitch we'd been looking for. Doakes, who was a damn good man and an even better cop died because of you. And I fell in love with Lundy which was great because of that case, I would have never met him had you been normal. Then he died right in front of me. He would have never been in the parking lot that night had he not met me, he would have lived and caught Trinity on his own. And then Rita, the sweetest, most trusting and strong woman I've ever known gets butchered in her own house in front of her baby because her husband was after that man for stupid, selfish reasons. Trinity would have never been in that house had you not pursued him."

Dexter continued to listen, unable to speak, his mouth slightly open.

"And you. Fucking hell. You made me turn on my duty as a cop when I let you and Lumen go. I fucking saw Jordan Chase dead as a doornail, knife sticking out of his chest and I walked away thinking that the people who did this were at least good in some regard, that they probably would never kill again. Fuck. Yeah right, not the case."

"Deb," Dexter said but was immediately cut off.

"And just when I was about to tell you how much you meant to me I find you sticking Doomsday in some sick ass ritual in a creepy church. You know how much my world shattered with that sight? My brother. My own fucking sweet, cute and innocent lab geek of an older brother plunging a knife into another human being. You know what? And instead of trusting my head like an idiot I followed my heart. I believed I was protecting my only family. You were the only person I had in this world and I believed I was doing right by keeping your secret safe because that's what people who care about others do. They follow their heart. And LaGuerta…La…" she closed her eyes, tears now beginning to form. She gulped and tried to remain composed, knowing she had to get this off her chest.

"LaGuerta, she cornered me. She cornered the both of us. Now I was deep into your shit and now my life was on the line. Harrison wouldn't have anyone if both of us went to prison. But you had a way to deal with it; I trusted your judgment only to find myself in an impossible situation. I followed my heart again. I murdered her for you. I'm the goddamned homicide LT and I murdered in cold blood. For your fucking ass. You know how fucked up that is, Dexter? Do YOU know how that's not okay?"

"Deb," he started but couldn't finish. What the hell was he supposed to say? He said what came naturally after another second, "I'm sorry."

Deb stood up suddenly and glared at him, fire and rage boiling up inside her. "You can take that sorry and shove it up your ass! Get out!" she roared and pointed at his chest. "Don't ever come around here again. Don't talk to me. Don't even think of me. If you see me somewhere, pretend I don't exist. I want nothing to do with you!"

Dexter stood up meeting her at eye level. She didn't step back as he stepped closer. "Deb, I don't understand."

"No, you fucking don't," she said tears streaming in anger, her lip was quivering but her nostrils were flared. "Leave."

"Deb" he took another step closer and she shoved him back and in an instinctive muscle memory reaction she pulled her service weapon on him, taking a step back. Dexter lifted his hands in a gesture of peace, shocked at how she pulled her pistol on him. Him? Her own Brother?

"I'll keep your precious Dark Passenger bullshit a secret, so don't worry about that. Just get out and never come back."

"Okay, okay, I'm going." He backed away and left at gun point. She slammed the door in front of him.

Dexter was dazed and confused by Deb's complete tirade and overreaction. He sat in his car, thinking.

"You know this is what you expected," said a deep voice. Dexter looked to the passenger seat and saw Harry. "She killed for you, Dexter. She's not like you."

"I know she's not. This was not what I expected," he said tapping his thumb on the steering wheel.

"What do normal people feel like when they're betrayed?" his adoptive father asked.

"I didn't betray her," he said with a dash of annoyance.

"You put her in the situation of choosing to compromise her integrity and you. You knew she would choose you over anyone else."

She pulled a gun on him. He knew as well as she that she wouldn't shoot him. If she did, well, he would have been killed in that shipping container instead of LaGuerta. And she said she wanted nothing to do with him.

"I need her to understand. I need a plan." His tapping became more pronounced as if the frustration of Deb's inability to understand.

He glanced at Harry and then it clicked.

Harrison. He knew she wouldn't stay away far for long because deep down , Deb thought of Harrison as a son especially after Rita's death. She had said that on a number of occasions.

There was a way to get to Deb and Harrison would play his role in that endeavor. Maybe it would take another month or two for her to realize this. She said she needed time, so Dexter was willing to let go for the moment. Dexter needed that time for a plan. A better one that wouldn't involve a screaming and shoving Deb.

"Using your son as leverage to get to her isn't a solution, Dexter," his father said.

"It will work," he said with finality, "I need a kill."

The recount of all his exploits and an angry Deb caused that little feeling to creep into his chest. He needed to feel the life trickle out of someone across his table. He needed that control. A name popped into his head. Someone who had been at the top of his list for a while now.

He started to drive off as the sun set, calling Jamie to inform her that he wasn't going to be home for a long while. The stalk began.


End file.
